The Last, Best Second Try
by athousandgumtrees
Summary: He had driven his daughter to Slateport City for the Pokémon Beauty Contest. A short story about the worst people on earth.


I.

He had driven his daughter to Slateport City for the Pokémon Beauty Contest.

Her father had watched her practise. She was good, but was she Hyper Rank good? It really depended on her mood. Focused and driven one day, limp and slouchy the next. There were days she was in complete control of her Spheal - skillful and precise. Then there were days she needed to pee. And she's been chewing her hair a lot.

He had been giving her helpful advice. Use Dive to go last in the next round, then jam the other contestants with Hail. When you're nearing five-star excitement, use Ice Ball to _unexcite_ the audience, making it impossible for the others to maximise their appeal. And the Hail from the previous round will synergise with Ice Ball, forcing the other kids to double down on jamming you if they're not retarded ("dad, you can't _say_ that"). It was all about mind games.

Obviously, Hatsune Miku and her Pichu were the crowd favourites ("that's not her name, dad") - the Introduction Round wasn't going to be a fair fight. But the Secondary Round was up for grabs. Miku was already a Hyper Rank in the Pokémon Cuteness Contest, but she basically relied on acting dumb and flashing panties. The lolicon (" _dad_!") schtick wasn't going get her an easy win in the Beauty Contest.

It was the kind of advice he wished he'd been given, back when it was his turn.

* * *

II.

So there were twelve other contestants. Standard rules; top four move up to Hyper Rank. Hatsune was going to take top rank, leaving 3 spots. If Rika got in, she'd definitely make it. Tori and Siena were older and if they got picked for seniority, that'd leave only one spot. Close.

Dad said this to her: whether you make it to Hyper Rank or not, you have to keep practicing. You can't get lazy and fat if you do make it to Hyper Rank - it just means you have to try even harder for the Master Rank. It's an entirely different league in Lilycove.

And if you don't make it, you need to find out _why_. Go over the adjudicator's feedback with a fine-toothed comb. Review your strategy - what worked, what didn't. And then try again at the next Hyper Rank contest. (That's what this is all about. Teaching his daughter resilience. That is _life._ )

Besides, they're not going to let someone who's too good stay at Super Rank forever. The whole point was to give everyone a chance, and someone who dominates the contests would make everyone unhappy. (That's also life. But it's not a lesson he wanted her to have to learn.)

* * *

III.

"I'm feeling sick," she mumbles. "I'm feeling really sick."

The Slateport City Contest Hall is bigger and more pompous than Fallabor's or Verdanturf's, like walking into an Apple store, except somehow even more pretentious. This is how you know you're playing with the big kids, her Dad had said. She's too busy looking at the ground and picking her nails.

They're behind the stage. Stagehands and parents and obviously important people move around them with purpose.

"Those are the nerves," he says. "You need to learn to master it."

"I can't go up," she pleads, something in her tone making it into a question. "Let's just go?"

He looks at her as if she just spat in his face.

"Dad, this place is so much bigger than the others - the crowd is like, a bajillion times bigger-"

"You'll be fine. Just focus on your routine. You're all right."

She needs to learn to face pressure, he thinks. This is good for her.

Besides, he didn't drive two hours on his weekend to back out now.

"I'm serious dad, I'm feeling really sick."

He says more words and then the contestants are called up. She looks back at him as if he made her drink poison. He waves.

* * *

IV.

After the First Round: Tori and Siena are currently placed 2nd and 3rd. Hatsune places 5th. That doesn't make any sense. Some no-name mute with a Charizard sits in first place by over 20 points. His daughter doesn't get announced at the end of the round. Which means she's in the bottom four.

"I can't do it!" she's chewing on her lip. "I'm really feeling sick!"

"You're making yourself sick by saying that," he says, more harshly than he means to. "You're throwing away all our hard work!"

"I wanna go home!"

"Do you really want to run away?" He says this slowly, carefully.

He's worked hard to get her here. And it was his responsibility to teach her to be a man. Or, a woman in a man's world. Ideally, he wants to be friends with his daughter. But he'd be a parent first. He'd make that sacrifice.

"Can I?" She looks at him.

Here we go, he thinks.

* * *

Maybe this seems like a simple yes or no question, but it's not. Everything is a teachable moment when you are a parent, he thinks. This is a micro-skirmish in the eternal war of parenthood. And war needs strategy. So: as terrible as the situation is, he can use this to make her a better person.

The most obvious lesson is that failure happens. Nothing is ever guaranteed. It's basically impossible to rank now. Life is competition. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, an asshole with a Charizard will swoop down and take everything from you.

So, going out there for the second round - whilst maintaining your dignity - without giving up, without limp-wristedly bowing out - there's value in that. And then owning whatever rank you get. ("What do I tell everyone back home? Can I lie?") No. Tell them the truth. That you didn't make the cut - that there are people better than you, and that you're going to practice hard, and try again soon.

Besides, it's not like she _really_ tried all that hard. She wasn't out every day practicing at the town gym, or studying optimal movesets. Getting to Master Rank with just occasional practice can make you think you _deserve_ to win. That you're naturally good at everything. And when life inevitably makes you fail it will crush your identity right into dust. And the next thing you know your best friend's elder brother introduces you to a guy who's got some rare candy dust ("you should see what it does to humans, bruh") and keeps bringing up how he and his Gardevoir love to 'experiment'.

* * *

Getting to Master Rank is an accomplishment. Going back out there, failing, and then coming back? _That's a life lesson_.

* * *

V.

She's standing on stage for the Second Round. She's going second last - it's coming up to her turn.

"Going back out there is hard. But you can do it. Nothing is impossible. You can do whatever you set your mind to. You're young, the whole world is out there. Just focus, focus, focus..." He had kept talking, saying more and more words. But it wasn't enough to stop the inevitable thought:

You're about to fail at Pokémon _again._

Did he ever tell his daughter that he wanted to be a Pokémon trainer, when he was her age? Of course, he tells himself that he hadn't wanted to be a Pokémon trainer _that_ much, but with all that wasted time and lack of effort it's inevitable that he'll never be a Trainer any more.

Watching her try and fail the same way he did was like failing at Pokémon training _twice._ On the wrong side of fifty there wasn't any more time left for him, but his daughter was like a thousand open doors, leading to all sorts of possibilities that were now closed for him. There are no more chances. But - crazy thought - his daughter would give him a sort of loophole.

He's not going to be a Master Rank Pokémon trainer any more. But he could be the _father_ of a Master Rank Pokémon trainer. And he'd be in the front row of all her contests, sitting in a kind of fulfilled contentment. Giving some sage advice every now and then. Everyone would know it was _his_ effort that got her there. He's not saying he's father of the year material or anything. But that's because he wouldn't _need_ to say it.

She's raising her arm to direct her Spheal.

She's gone back out there. She's giving it another go. I'm winning, he thinks. This is what it means to be a good parent. Seeing past the surface, striking at the core issues that will make her better. Tempering her into a strong woman. And, maybe, getting some of the recognition I deserve.

She stands there, silent. Everyone is watching her. Something is wrong.

* * *

And then, motionless, she starts sobbing.

And there it is.

I am a failure, he thinks.

* * *

Somehow, he had gotten it into this head that his daughter's success would keep from from getting old. He had failed at being a Pokémon Trainer, he had failed at everything else in his life, and he was proving to be just as mediocre at parenthood as everything else.

He had managed to turn something as joyful and wondrous as Pokémon into a child's nightmare.

For his daughter's entire life, he had been trying to con her into thinking she can be anyone she wants to be, completely disregarding that she's _already_ who she wants to be. Instead of being a guiding hand, he had been just another one of the bullies in her life, chipping away at her foundation until there was nothing left, making it harder to be fulfilled, and impossible to be happy.

Everything is a teachable moment when you are a piece of garbage. And everything that he had said to her today had been a biotoxin. Did he hear her, did he listen to anything that was important in her life? What she really valued?

If he is so wise, with so much knowledge to teach, then he wouldn't be so miserable. And none of this would have happened.

* * *

VI.

The story isn't about his atonement, or absolution. The story's not even about him at all. You either get that or you don't, and it's not a stretch to say that's precisely why children are competing in Pokémon contests at all.

He had planned so many speeches. For every single eventuality. All the inspiring speeches he'd write about in his memoirs.

But.

Something in his brain breaks and he manages to resist all of the worst in him, and just run out on stage and hug her.

He leads her by the hand off the stage, out of the hall, into the beautiful summer day outside.

He takes them to a park nearby and leans down next to her and says, "there's not much I can do or say to make this better, but I love you. All the time. I'm so proud of you. Take this." He hands her a disc - it's the TM for Bubblebeam. She had wanted this for so long, but the Pokémon Trainer he was pretending to be had said it wasn't an optimum move for the Beauty Contest and forbade it.

They teach it to her Spheal and they spend the afternoon blowing bubbles into the warm summer air.

* * *

His daughter looks at him and her face splits into a huge grin. She runs between her Spheal and the bubbles, talking and chatting excitedly, and for a moment he thinks as long as she can stay like this and he can just get the hell out of her way, she'll be happy.


End file.
